Free Bad Blood (Battle of the Undead Book 1) by Nicky Peacock Page A

leaving.”
    They both nodded and picked up some bags. Kids were easy. The soldiers, though, had guns and an unhealthy trigger-happy attitude. Well, at least one of them did. The other had four hundred odd years of kisses coming his way.
    I turned to leave the shop and find Langdon.
    “Britannia,” Paul cried out. “What if they come back?”
    “You yell my name, Paul. I won’t be far, and I’m very fast.” I smiled at him as best I could. I still couldn’t manage to comfortably slip my lip over my canines.
    I saw Green first. If I hadn’t just fed , I’d have taken a few pints from him. After all, he had spilled my blood first. It was easy to get behind him. He had a self-righteous attitude that made him think he was invulnerable. Who knew? Maybe he was. He reminded me too much of Nicholas…who about now would be wondering where I was—crap, maybe I should have said something to someone before taking off. I really was not good at this whole teamwork thing.
    I slipped my hand around Green’s waist and turned him to face me. I yanked his gun off him, the gun that had shot the bullet that ruined my vintage Sex Pistols tee. A look of shock fell over his face like nausea.
    “I know what you are,” he whispered.
    I snorted and raised an eyebrow . This would be good.
    His eyes were wild and wide. “You’re a …werewolf.”
    I stifled a moan and head butted him into unconsciousness. His body slumped against me, and I carried him back to the shop. The children had been busy-bees, scooping up chocolate and crisps. They acknowledged my appearance with the sleeping private then continued with their scavenging.
    I found the third solider curled up by the entrance. He was comatose and very much infected. Bite marks littered his arms. I broke his neck and carried on to find Langdon.
    Fate is a fickle mistress. All this time I’d looked for him, ever since he’d been killed, murdered by Nicholas in an unfair duel. The supernatural odds had been stacked against my love. He’d been killed to ensure he wouldn’t come for me, to free me before Nicholas had had his fill of my captivity. In all those centuries, I had never found him. Not until now, at the worst possible time. No, Fate wasn’t a fickle mistress, she was a bitch.
    The museum was running a special exhibit on The British Civil War. Roundheads and Cavaliers, their various weapons and clothing scattered to gather dust in glass cabinets. Langdon stood staring at the display in his generic, blood-spattered khakis. I smelled the air. Thankfully, none of the blood was his, so I knew he wasn’t infected. I edged a little too close, stepped from the shadows too soon , and found myself on the business end of his gun.
    “Who are you?” he demanded.
    His gun arm was surprisingly steady.
    I was no fool. I’d been around for centuries. I knew he’d have forgotten me. How many incarnations had he had since our love? To me, it was all still so fresh. I’d kept his memories alive all this time. He’d not had that advantage. His soul had been Swiss-rolled into at least six bodies in the meantime—until he had landed in this one.
    I put my hands up.
    “Shoot me if you wish. It’ll do me no harm to me, but will lose you a precious bullet,” I whispered. I deliberately kept my voice low to appear calm and make him strain to hear what I was saying, to make him concentrate and edge closer. The giddy scent of his sweat-slicked skin tickled my senses, and I felt my expression soften with an easy smile.
    “Are you one of them?”
    “No, of course not. I don’t look like a zombie, and I can talk.”
    “Yeah, well, I saw one of them talk, too.”
    “What?” Now he had my full attention.
    “There was one earlier. He seemed to be …in charge.”
    A low growl from down the corridor made him turn. Langdon’s back was to me now. He aimed his gun into the darkened museum.
    I didn’t move any closer to him. I certainly didn’t want to startle a man with a loaded gun.
    “We